


Hobbits Play Peculiar Sports

by WTFAidaWTF (Aida)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Inappropriate wrestling is more like it though, Multi, Yes you read that right, oil wrestling, towards the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/WTFAidaWTF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo teaches the company about one of his people's favored sports.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hobbits Play Peculiar Sports

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shrapnel_Chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shrapnel_Chan/gifts).



> Like many of us Tumblr users out there, I saw a post about Turkish Oil Wrestling, and then I was inspired. 
> 
> Thank you, late night tumbling. That is all.
> 
> Also, I gift this to Shrapnel_Chan, because she drew me such awesome kilbo wrestling things! :)
> 
> Really, though, this can be seen as a gift to everyone who secretly wanted dwarves wrestling and covered in oil. -Cough- EVERYONE ADMIT IT EVERYONE! -Cough-.

Hobbits, Dwalin surmised, had very odd habits and customs. They kept moldy cheese in their pantry, claiming it was still edible. They hated travelling without something as meaningless as a handkerchief. They even thought foot grooming was almost as private and personal as a dwarf would view a spouse or partner grooming their beard.

This, however, took the cake.

It had come up in conversation after they all had a tiny bit too much ale than what was strictly necessary, finding comfort in Beorn’s home and his food (as meatless as it was). His brother had taken to conversing with Bilbo about their differing customs. Everyone listened in, and commented when they felt the need to. They all collectively agreed that they were surprisingly similar in some ways, but also different in others.

One practice, in particular, was seen as particularly odd. Yet all the dwarrows, even Thorin, seemed quite curious about it.

It was a practice done in celebration, usually when hobbits came of age, after a good harvest, or any celebration that didn’t always involve a wedding or someone’s birthday (though sometimes it occurred when such things were asked for). Sure, they had something similar, but it was never as… personal. Or oily.

Hobbits, in fact, were more physical than what any of the company had previously thought (save Gandalf, who had a strange sparkle in his eyes when Bilbo spoke of it). Sure, they knew Bilbo liked to sleep cuddled up to someone. Knew that he was tactile. But they didn’t know that he was one of many hobbits who participated in oil wrestling. Nor did they know that there was a rather hands-on way of winning a match. 

They couldn’t even fathom how a hobbit like Bilbo could be long-running champion of such a sport.

But they were eager enough, and drunk enough, to try. And Beorn was more than willing to gift them the oil that they needed. 

Not everyone could participate, however. Thorin couldn’t, for his injuries still hadn’t fully healed (though he looked rather put out at the ruling by both the hobbit and Oin). Ori decided to merely record all that he could about the event that was about to occur. And Gandalf dubbed himself the referee. 

That was when Dwalin began to pick up on how peculiar the practice was.

It was his fault, now that he thought back, for volunteering himself to help demonstrate. It started somewhat innocently enough when Bilbo took off wears to leave him bare-chested and asked for Dwalin to do the same, but it soon rose some eyebrows when Bilbo started pouring the oil over him, rubbing it into his flesh as he did so.

“It’s part of the process, as a showing of respect.” He explained, even as Dwalin heard some chuckles at his flushing face. “We pair off and make sure we’re prepared. That we’re good and oiled up!”

Dwalin tried not to flush even brighter at the cheery way he said this, nor did he try to feel too uncomfortable with doing this process with the hobbit in question. The man didn’t even cringe when he got it on his trousers. 

Then the actual wrestling started.

He didn’t want to exert too much force on the smaller man. Didn’t actually want to inadvertently kill him, let alone embarrass him in front of the company that had just started to respect him. Sure, Bilbo was a champion in this arena back in the Shire, but he had never challenged a dwarf before, let alone one as big as Dwalin.

So the large dwarf could only grunt in surprise when he found himself caught on his hands and knees with the burglar’s hand deep into his trousers.

“This is how you win!” Bilbo had called in explanation as the dwarrows gaped in shock at the defeat of one of their strongest. “You have to get in and get a good hold!”

Dwalin would’ve snorted if he didn’t fear shaking certain bits. It was as if having his hand down a friend’s pants was a common occurrence for the hobbit. Though, considering how often such a practice occurred in the Shire, according to Bilbo’s words, that was highly likely. 

Finally, Bilbo removed his hand and helped Dwalin stand. He would’ve moved to rejoin the group, but Bilbo had stopped him and he blinked in surprise when the hobbit kissed his hands.

“Another sign of respect. You do this if the man you have won against was your elder.” He explained. “And, well… that’s it, really.”

Afterwards, it was chaos. Organized chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

They paired off, making it a tournament of sorts, the winners moving on to go up against other winners. Dwalin was a little relieved that he didn’t need any more oil, though probably could’ve lived the rest of his days without ever having to help oil up his brother. 

Dwalin sat with Thorin, having been beaten by Dori when it the actual was going on, and the two joined Ori in watching the fray. It was a bit of a surprise that Kíli beat his brother, then Gloin, all with a bright smile on his face, as if the young dwarrow was having the time of his life. It wasn’t too surprising how far Bifur had managed to go, though he found the act of wrestling more playful than the others, similar to how Kíli treated the game. 

But the one who was most surprising was Bilbo.

Despite never having gone up against a dwarf with sheer strength alone, the hobbit was easily the unbeatable one of the entire lot. Even Gloin and Dori, who seemed so sure of their victories, were easily brought down by the hobbit. It was a peculiar thing to see, how the hobbit seemed almost graceful when he twisted and shifted around his opponents, easily wrestling them to the ground. Thorin looked rather impressed himself, eyes widening whenever a dwarf would grunt or squawk as they fell by Bilbo’s hand. 

Dwalin knew that their burglar was light on their feet, but this was even more of surprise. And Gandalf didn’t seem at all shocked by such a turn of events in the slightest, the mad wizard.

Eventually, the number of participants had whiddled down, and the only two left standing where Bilbo and Kíli. Thorin looked rather proud of seeing his nephew still in, and Fíli was cheering his brother on, even before Gandalf signaled for their match to begin. Everyone was placing bets, for both showed promise, even as they smiled at each other companionably. The bets were rather tied, and it was easy to see why when they actually started.

Both used their agility more than their own brute strength against their opponent. They used their small size (or in Kíli’s case, smaller mass) to their advantage. But Kíli was still the strongest, yet Bilbo had already proven time and time again that such things didn’t always matter. There were times when they thought Kíli would surely when, and also times they thought that Bilbo would. Thorin was sure that his nephew would triumph, and Dwalin could hear Bofur and Ori both cheering Bilbo on. But he wasn’t so sure, couldn’t say either way. He was never a big fan of betting to begin with.

Then Bilbo got behind Kíli and managed to bring him to his knees. The shouts grew louder, more heated, even as Kíli struggled as hard as he could. It looked like Kíli could easily get the upper hand again. Easily get out of the hobbit’s grip.

Then Dwalin saw how his expression had shifted greatly before he was on all fours with the hobbit plastered onto his back. He frowned, because he thought he saw the young dwarrow’s face flush. Thought he saw his eyes widen. He also noticed how close Bilbo’s mouth was to his ear, so Dwalin wondered if he was saying anything to him to get him to buckle so quickly.

Then Kíli let out what sounded like a whine, and Dwalin’s narrowed gaze went wide-eyed.

Oh.

_Oh_.

It explained how Kíli was no longer struggling so hard, and why Bilbo seemed to be taking his sweet time getting his hand in the younger man’s trousers. 

It was no secret that the young prince had at least some kind of affection towards the hobbit, and that he returned those affections to some degree. But no one knew to what extent either went. And from the look on his face, not even Fíli knew. Well, they did now, especially seeing how Kíli arched into Bilbo as his struggling turned more playful than his actions throughout the entire experience ever were. 

“What’s going on?” Thorin asked, and Dwalin continued to fight the urge to shield his old friend’s eyes. “Why is Kíli acting like that?”

Dwalin stared at his friend, his soon-to-be-King, and had to fight the urge to punch him in the head like Dís always would. 

“You don’t want to know.” Was his only answer, hoping that Bilbo would stop making Kíli whimper like that.

“Is…” He heard Fíli mutter. “Is he-?”

“Is he what?” Thorin asked as Dwalin smacked Fíli on the head.

“Never you mind!”

“But Master Dwalin-!”

“No.”

“But Kíli-!”

“ _No_!”

“Is…” Dwalin froze as Thorin’s eyes widened a little. “Is the burglar…?”

Before Dwalin could reply, and before Thorin could try and swoop in, Gandalf finally called off. He sighed in relief, seeing that Bilbo had eventually stopped toying around and had, finally, reached in and grabbed Kíli’s pants. 

As Gandalf proclaimed Bilbo the victor, and many of the dwarrows cheered and grumbled as they exchanged their money, the hobbit stood and helped Kíli up off the ground. The prince looked rather bleary-eyed and blissful, and Dwalin tried not to think about what Bilbo did to cause such an expression. Instead, he noticed that Bilbo placed a rather lingering kiss onto Kíli’s knuckles, and how they smiled at each other with such besotted glee it was almost sickening.

“Well done, bunny and friends!” Beorn called as he approached. “Good show! Now, come! You must be tired and hungry! But first, you must bathe!”

Dwalin watched as Bilbo lead the charge, dragging a very eager Kíli with him by the hand into the skin-changer’s home. 

“Dwalin, what was he doing?” Thorin demanded as Dwalin helped him up with the help of Fíli before said prince dashed inside. “It looked like the burglar was… was taking advantage of my nephew, but he wouldn’t dare…!”

“Thorin, my king,” Dwalin cut in, guiding Thorin along as the others moved to follow. “Let me just tell you this: Our burglar only did what your nephew wanted. So, be prepared to have a new member of your family. Also think of what to call a child of a dwarf and a hobbit.”

Thorin seemed to fume silently at his words, and Dwalin tried not hope to hard that his friend wouldn’t try to kill Bilbo just when they were getting along. 

“Now that I think of it,” He continued. “I think ‘dwobbit’ is a-.”

“Dwalin.”

“Yes, my king?”

“Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a huge fan of this ending, but oh well.
> 
> Also, I MIGHT try to write a sequel, but more of a POV shift where, instead of Dwalin watching it, it's Kíli's experience with wrestling with Bilbo.
> 
> After all, even I'm a little curious about what was said. Derp.


End file.
